


After rain, Umbrella

by 42gabi24



Series: After rain, Umbrella [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: A Slightly Better Adjusted Anakin, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anakin Gets His Shit Together, Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Canon Divergence - Order 66, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Child Death, F/M, Minor Injuries, Order 66, Serious Injuries, That's Not How The Force Works, Unreliable Narrator, and a nap, no beta we die like men, some of these people are ooc sorry :(
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 13:26:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22886044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/42gabi24/pseuds/42gabi24
Summary: The Force thinks it's time to take matters into its own (proverbial) hands to guide the Chosen One to his destiny of bringing balance to the Force. After all, it's never too late.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Original Child Characters, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Series: After rain, Umbrella [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1645072
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	After rain, Umbrella

**Author's Note:**

> 15K words of writing as the metaphorical equivalent of my ape-like brain hitting you, fancy homosapiens, with a wooden club.
> 
> All editing and proofreading is done by a single person (me) and a free software, please notify me of any error, whether it be formatting or grammar :P
> 
> This is going to be an Anakin centric AU with varying POV's that will deviate violently from canon (this is the longest chapter I hope). My end game is Anakin becoming a farmer with his 20+ kids in the space equivalent of the middle of nowhere.
> 
> The title is based of a Bulgarian proverb, that means to try and rectify a mistake with something designed to prevent it when it is already too late to possibly fix it- a nice poetic juxtaposition with the summary, me thinks. The chapter title, on the other hand, is a quote from Heraclitus of Ephesus.

Anakin barely crawled his way out of the Council chamber, weak and near delirious from pain. The Force’s howl made him flee out of the room in sheer terror, maroon robes fluttering in disarray around him. Never in his life had he felt like the Force itself was a conscient being capable of reacting in such _agony_. 

The Jedi stumbled through the levels of the Temple. His eyes darted from corner to corner, seeing invisible shadows that disappeared as soon as he turned.

Anakin appreciated the silence in the long halls on a normal day. It let him concentrate and was one of the few societal norms of the Temple he adopted naturally. The Jedi were quiet, Anakin could be quiet- Anakin preferred being quiet. The entire building itself was made to absorb sound, from high ceilings to special materials which isolated sound waves. On that day, the silence sounded unnatural, as if the Jedi Order had held its breath to avoid making any noise rather than the natural lull that came with sunset.

Anakin pawed clumsily at the access pad of the doors to the main classroom. His uncoordinated fingers pressed the tactile buttons with difficulty as his nerves failed to settle down. He burst through the parting doors in a flurry of limbs that stilled as Anakin sensed the other presences in the Force.

“Master Skywalker?” The Jedi tried his hardest to focus on the situation at hand as several pairs of eyes stared up at him in fear. Anakin understood why, in theory- he looked deranged. “Master Skywalker are you all right?” He blinked at the little Twi’Lek girl that had stepped forward from the group of huddled younglings. 

“Shhh,” He knelt in front of her with his finger in the universal gesture for silence. “We have to keep quiet.” He stroked her arms in a downward motion, glad for the gloves on his hands that protected her mind from his rampaging thoughts and lashing emotions.

A human boy, no bigger than the girl, parted from his companions to join his crechemate. They looked up at him with watery eyes. “Master Skywalker, what is going on? There’s something wrong with the Force.”

As if on cue, a pang of wrongness hit Anakin with the strength of a bantha. Someone had died- no, multiple someones, two levels above theirs. He fought the urge to throw up with a slight shake of his head. It was up to him to deal with the children, was what the Force had hinted at.

"The Temple is in lockdown for some reason, everyone is gone and the Force feels terrible. Young one, I don't have answers for you but you need to keep quiet. There is no time for questions.” He whispered fervently as he met each pair of eyes, hoping the younglings understood the direness of the situation. “Like little mice, we’ll move quietly and no one will notice that we’re here.” 

Anakin wasn’t a comforting presence, not by a long shot. He rarely had to deal with children in general, but his mother was great at reassurances in dire situations. He hoped to emulate her as best as he could while takind deep calming breaths. He remembered the cloying fear in the air during his first auction. Both his and everyone else’s around him. Mothers just like Shmi had cradled their own children hoping they would be sold together. Similarly to their current position, all they asked for was silence.

At that time the consequences hadn't been clear to Anakin, he just wanted to go back to the quarters. Being in his mother's position was a complete and utter nightmare he wouldn't wish on anyone.

“Hide, and no matter what you hear, _don’t come outside._“ Anakin instructed. No one protested save for a few rapid-fire whispers that quieted down immediately. The younglings appeared to be aware of some emergency procedures and returned to their previous hiding places away from the windows. 

Anakin blinked, wondering what exactly was he going to do with the twelve children in his care. The Force’s hints were clear as a day on Tatooine. The Temple was at the heart of the storm in the Force, that much was obvious. They were _his _responsibility now, but _how _was he supposed to get them out of this mess?

He really had the worst luck, didn’t he?

“Where is your teacher,” He asked the tiny Twi’Lek girl. _Where was the Crèche Master? _“They’re supposed to stand here and escort you to the evacuation tunnels.”

There had been some kind of lesson going on, judging by the discarded holopads and flimsiplasts, yet no Crèche Master appeared to be in sight.

“Master Utrila left to see what was going on outside, she instructed us to stay here but she hasn’t returned since then.” Utrila was dead then, Anakin figured out, but didn’t have the heart to say out loud. 

“The attackers are moving fast, I can feel them all around the temple. We have to move soon.” _Or they wouldn’t have a way to escape_. “Is everyone okay? Any injuries?”

The younglings voiced their negatives, confirming what he had suspected all along. Utrila had left as a distraction to lead the attackers away. It had worked, Anakin noted with grim respect. Other than mild shock, the children were unscathed.

“Where are we going to go Master?” Asked another youngling. Anakin ignored the question, knowing he didn’t have a reassuring answer for the Nautolan boy. More frightened whispers. He checked the hallway before exiting, holding up a hand in warning, grateful that the children didn’t follow immediately. He stepped outside, not knowing what he could find.

Their best bet was an underground tunnel that was relatively unknown, and led to the middle levels of Coruscant. Although, he suspected that the Temple was already full of invading forces- in fact he could feel them vaguely. Too many to identify, but still present and advancing steady inside the Temple’s halls. Anakin couldn’t even pinpoint the directions they moved towards.

He considered his options. They needed reinforcements, first and foremost, but they also needed a safe place to stay until he could figure out a plan. Staying in the classroom didn’t seem like such a bad idea, once a zone was deemed clear troops avoided delays due to repetition.  
“For now, it might be better to stay here. Don’t get close to the door.” He ordered, inspecting the blaster marks on the hall columns he hadn’t seen on his way to the classroom. The attackers had passed by the Crèche without noticing the younglings inside, which meant they weren’t looking for a specific target- or at least didn’t know where it was.

The youngling’s Master couldn’t have gone far, Anakin was sure he could find her if he followed the blaster marks. “Stay here, you’ll be safe, I promise.”   
The faux confidence worked on the oblivious younglings like a charm, to his surprise. He let them hide behind the hoverchairs in small clusters of friends.  
Decided, Anakin thumbed his lightsaber on. He gritted his teeth at the sheer lack of options presented to him, his plans crumbled before he could even form them. With a frustrated gesture that was definitely un-Jedi-like, he closed the doors of the classroom.

“Master Skywalker!” Cried out a voice inside- a girl, probably the Twi’Lek, he knew a troublemaker when he saw one. Anakin cursed under his breath, thankful for the empty hallway. “Master Skywalker please come back soon!”  
His frustration left him with a heavy sigh.

Anakin tried to soothe their fears through the Force the same way he used to try with Ahsoka through their training bond. (He used to fail spectacularly more often than not.) She always seemed to know he had tried his best either way. He stubbornly shook the thoughts of his missing Padawan away. The Jedi hoped that the atrocious attempt at comfort was enough and the children could take it as the apology it was.

No one called when he stepped away from the door. The silence in the Temple was sepulchral, faint echoes of displaced air bouncing off the high ceilings created an eerie ambience that rattled Anakin even further. His instincts continued to scream louder at him with every step he took. The Temple was getting quieter and quieter.

Following the path of destruction was easy, but the closer he got to the end of the level, the nastier the phantom presences in the Force grew. Fear, confusion, betrayal, pain. Negative emotions stuck to his mental shields like glue.

He assumed a defensive stance the moment he saw blood trails on the tiled floor. At this point it would be right to assume that Crèche Master Utrila has joined the Force, unless there was something else Anakin wasn’t aware of.

He quickened his pace through the bloodied hallway, which remained devoid of any hostile presences in the Force. He checked the rest of the classrooms, only to find them blissfully empty. The last door was closed from the inside. Much to his surprise, Anakin could feel other crechlings and their Master who hadn’t dared to leave the class. The Jedi moved on with a small brush against his fellow Jedi’s mental shields as a confirmation of his identity. He continued following the blood trail, confident that they could hold on for just a little longer.

The Jedi reached the turbolift of the level soon enough. Seeing Utrila slumped in a pool of her own blood wasn’t as surprising as he thought it would be, but not any less horrifying.

“Master Utrila?” He kneeled beside the injured Twi’Lek as he turned off his lightsaber. She turned her head tiredly towards him, faint Force signature flickering in surprise behind crumbling shields. Anakin could see the light in her brown eyes fade slowly. She didn’t have much time left. “Knight Skywalker, the-the Crèche… is under attack.” She gritted through her bloody teeth. “You must protect the younglings, it was Palpatine-”

“What?” Anakin scrunched his eyebrows in confusion, “Master Utrila please tell me what happened, I’ll do my best to help. Who attacked us? Where is our backup, someone must have alerted the Senate!”

“Listen to me young Skywalker,” Said Utrila, she looked urgently at him, knowing that her time was running out. Fear pulsed through the Force as she fisted the sleeve of his tunic in a shaky grip. “Senator Palpatine is not who he appears to be- he deceived all of us. The Republic won’t come to our rescue.” The woman took out a commlink, slightly battered but otherwise intact. She turned on the last message it received.

_“...The Jedi, and some within our own Senate, had conspired to create the shadow of Separatism using one of their own as the enemy’s leader. They had hoped to grind the Republic into ruin. But the hatred in their hearts could not be hidden forever. At last, there came a day when our enemies showed their true natures...”_

“No. Impossible.” Mumbled Anakin in disbelief. The Chancellor’s holographic form flickered as he continued with his speech about _betrayal_. It made little sense, Master Windu had gone to speak with him and maybe arrest him for his crimes against the Republic- not… this. “No, no, no, there must be some mistake, Chancellor Palpatine-”

“Your attachments are clouding your judgement, Master Skywalker. Use your instinct- use the Force! They have betrayed us, we can’t arrest the Chancellor so easily.” Her gaze burned into his with determination. “Save them, young Skywalker, and beware of the clones, they’re behind the attacks.”

“The clones-” Anakin inhaled in surprise. Too many things made too much sense.“ They did this to you.”

Utrila nodded jerkily. A stray tear of pain, or maybe sorrow, escaped her watery eyes. “They’re killing everyone in sight, even- even the younglings.”

Anakin stared blankly at her. The Force continued its debilitating wails inside his head- countless Force signatures tearing down on his mental shields moments before they were snuffed forever.

“Focus, Master Skywalker!”

“I’m no Master,” He said under his breath, it was a shaky affirmation. One that wasn’t meant to be heard by anyone else less his bitterness be revealed. Utrila didn’t notice his whisper.

“The children are blameless, take them away from Coruscant, General, they need you.” Utrila’s voice got weaker and weaker as she continued. She didn’t have enough blood left to supply her body with oxygen. She slumped further against the wall with a low wheeze. “And may the Force be with you.” 

Her muscles slackened as Anakin felt the rest of her consciousness fade away in the Force. The commlink clattered on the floor from her loose fingers. 

Anakin took the small device and replayed the message of the Chancellor, trying to ignore the blood that rushed in his ears. Then he played the latest message with a shaky finger. 

_“The Clone Wars are over, esteemed Masters of the Order, all Jedi must return to the Coruscant-”_

Anakin crushed the hunk of metal in his prosthetic hand with a satisfying crunch. He turned around to look at the place Utrila had stared at with mounting horror. It was a small room- almost a broom closet for the cleaning droids to store the supplies- 

It was full to the brim with corpses. Anakin’s eyes itched as he stared unblinking at the younglings. Small bodies piled on top of one another with various blaster wounds, huddled like they were caught off guard and were trying to hide as quickly as possible. 

“Like fish in a barrel.”

Anakin threw up all over the pristine stone floors.

He turned around, unwilling to look at the scene for longer than what’s needed. He wiped the vomit from his mouth on autopilot and patted the dead Crèche Master down almost mindlessly. Her lightsaber was attached to her hip, just above the sloppily bandaged stomach wound that had killed her. Anakin pocketed the weapon in his robes. He spared another look at Utrila, bowing towards her in respect once and continued on his way.

He used his time up the stairs of the Temple to focus on the Force and regain some balance. It wasn’t the place, nor the time for Anakin to curse his shortsightedness. He shelved any thoughts of Palpatine to the back of his mind for an indefinite time. The voices of the enem- the clones, maybe _his men_\- were getting closer, but Anakin felt more centered, more in control than before. His mind was clear, and he managed to pinpoint a small cluster of Jedi on the floor above him, close to the Crèche just as Utrila had mentioned.

The closer he got, the louder the Force’s warning prods became. Sensing an inevitable attack as soon as he reached his destination, Anakin turned on his lightsaber once more. Masters Iii Shak and Bee Mesh opened their welcoming arms to greet him to the Temple’s Crèche, their eyes empty as always. His stone ancestors stood vigilant over an indistinguishable carnage of bodies on top of bodies that littered the ample hallway to the point where he couldn’t recognize clone from Jedi.

“Master Skywalker, watch out!” Anakin ducked on instinct, narrowly avoiding a potshot from a nearby clone. He killed the man with a generous swipe of his ‘saber, feeling a pang of regret for killing another being, but ultimately suppressing that thought like he’d done many times before. Compartmentalization was a skill.

The remaining clones were dealt with rather quickly by the other Jedi, while he tried to position himself in the dark hall.

“Master Shaak Ti,” Anakin greeted the Togruta. He observed the Masters in front of him with relief- at least there was _someone _protecting the children. Crèche Masters were dubbed as such, not because of their skill in combat or mastery of the Force, but their knowledge of Jedi History. The sentients in front of him surprised him. Not only had they survived the many trooper squads, but they also protected the entrance to the Crèche successfully. 

One of the Jedi, a relatively young humanoid, collapsed on the spot, probably fatigued by the non-stop fighting. A lone Temple Guard helped him in a sitting position on the steps by a lone Temple Guard with white robes specked in blood. On the other side, Master Shaak Ti stood tall and didn’t budge from her defensive stance, but Anakin could feel the relief seeping through her crumbling mental shields- and the tremble in her grip on the lightsaber she held.

“Anakin Skywalker, it’s a great pleasure to see you here.”

“What’s going on,” He demanded with a slight wince at his lack of manners. Shaak Ti was grateful for his presence, but any other Jedi might have been just as useful in this situation. Anakin looked down at the puddle of rainbow-colored blood he had stepped in earlier and decided he could be forgiven just once. His reflection frowned at him in red. Kriff the darkness, kriff the windowless hallway. 

“I was meditating in the Chapel when I heard a scream in the Force,” The Togruta panted. “It led me here, Master Kimte and Master Jin were barely holding up against two clones since Master Yoon Tan was already…” She looked to the right, just between two columns, were cornered and then shot to death, a young Knight, probably fresh of getting his braid cut lay slumped against the wall. Shaak Ti sighed with sadness that was quickly hidden as Anakin felt her rage and grief disappear in the Force. “They’re all with the Force now.”

“Master Shaak Ti,” Interjected the Temple Guard who watched the interaction while they helped the fallen Jedi. The younger man shakily rose to his feet, using the Guard as support. Anakin’s guess was that he was suffering from severe Force exhaustion. “Master Kimte needs medical assistance as soon as possible.”

Their tone was neutral, just like their voice. Masked and heavily robed, Anakin couldn’t guess their gender or their species. The Jedi Knight wondered where were the other Guards of their patrolling squad. Shaak Ti looked at the pale Jedi, then shook her head. 

“He won’t get the help he needs here. Bring him inside and see if any of the Padawans have been trained in Force healing. If he’s severely injured, I’ll see to him.” She tightened her grip on her lightsaber hilt.  
“Yes, Master.” The guard hoisted the fallen Jedi and dragged his weakened body past the heavy doors while the older one- Jin remained on guard in a practiced Soresu stance.  
“Do you feel anyone closing in, Master Skywalker?”  
By the look on her face, the Togruta knew what his answer would be. He sighed in mild frustration at his limited senses. “No, I know the temple is crawling with clones, but-”  
“You don’t know exactly where or how close they are.” She added with an understanding nod. “I had hoped that you would have more luck, I can barely sense my fellow Jedi- the emotions released in the Force are too powerful.”  
Anakin agreed, wondering if she was just as overwhelmed as he was. The Togruta Master put away her weapon reluctantly, closely followed by the second Jedi.  
“Master Shaak, how many younglings are in there?”

“... Around fifty.” Anakin closed his eyes in grief. There was no way they could get them out. The only younglings that stayed in the Crèche at this time of day were the youngest ones- the ones that couldn’t even walk yet.

“I have two groups of the older ones downstairs in the classrooms.”

“How many,” She asked with a twinge of hope- happiness- relief. Anakin wished he could feel the same, but there was a void around him, like his emotions weren’t his own. They weren’t. The Temple was filling with a miasma of death and setting putrefaction. The ancient stronghold was turning Dark, and the stench impeded his senses. He shuddered.

“Twelve in the classroom that I first found, and an entire class with another Master downstairs. Hiding worked for them before- no one is injured, and the Master had sealed the room from the inside, so I let the Force guide me here.”

“And I’m glad it did.” The Togruta answered with a worried furrow of her brow. Her shoulders sagged under the weight of his gaze. “I’m afraid that my strength is leaving me, I’ve been fighting for too long.”

“Haven’t we all?” Shaak Ti tilted her head to the side, her gaze calculating. Anakin didn’t let it bother him. 

“We need to separate.” He declared, feeling the other Jedi’s agreement. “Big groups attract attention.”

“How are we going to get out of here, Master Skywalker?” Asked Jin, speaking up for the first time. “They’ve sealed off the main and back entrances, and I felt them detonate the evacuation tunnels on my way to the Crèche. They’re trying to trap us here, essentially.”

“So we’ve got a mole who let them in on information known only to the Jedi,” Summarized Anakin. Several possible suspects popped up in his mind, each one more feasible than the last. He withheld from commenting further and shelved the revelation for a later time. Jin bobbed his head in confirmation.

“There are other passages- don’t worry, we simply have to find the right one and form a strategy.” Assured the Togruta, ignoring the piece of information in order to focus on the present. Anakin admired her clear headedness, Force knew they needed it.

“Oh! We need to intercept the communications from the temple.” Anakin commented. “It’s sending a message that will bring the Jedi here. I guess it was faked, because I’m sure that calling everyone from their missions can’t be something the Council would approve.”

“We didn’t issue such a message, I’m certain of it.” Confirmed Shaak Ti with a confused scrunch of her brow. 

Master Jin’s face scrunched in thought, the action twisting his attractive face in a grimace. “I may know how to cut off the signal, but I don’t know if I’ll make the trip- much less do it.

“You must have faith in your abilities, Master Jin.” Reassured the Togruta with the air of a Master used to assuage the insecurities of inexperienced Padawans. “You’re an expert duelist, and the Force will guide you, it seems to work in our favour today.”

Anakin held back a snort of derision. He could hardly describe their situation as favourable.

“I’ll go then you’re needed here, Masters.” Pure terror flashed through the young Knight’s eyes. Anakin’s heart shrunk, but the boy had volunteered and they had to save those they could.

“Do you know how to access the room?” He asked, the young Master was not a part of the Council and most of the programmes in the Communications room required an access code from a Council member. The man shook his head in the negative, looking tired beyond his years. 

“Here,” Anakin rummaged through his inner pockets to find the access chip to the upper levels, “The code is 302814, remember it because it will reset if you mess up.” 

“3-0-2-8-1-4, 3-0-2-8-1-4, 3-0-2-8-1-4… Got it!” Jin confirmed with an enthusiastic nod. He nodded once at Anakin and Shaak Ti in respect. “Then farewell Masters, I have a presentiment that we won’t see each other again,” He smiled ruefully. “It’s been an honor to fight with you, Master Shaak Ti.”  
The Togruta’s expression turned grim, but she said nothing to stop the teen from leaving. She too knew that Jin’s chances were slim. “May the Force be with you, young Jin.” She said finally.

“Remember to divert the Jedi, make them go into hiding and take any close-by allies with them,” Requested Anakin through a lump in his throat. It wasn’t every day where he sent his peers to die on suicide missions. “Let them know that they’re being persecuted and to not trust anyone from the Senate or the Republic, we’re fugitives of the law from now on… and good luck- you’re braver than I am.” He said, patting the boy’s shoulder heavily.

Master Jin laughed, his face smooth with youth aside from the scrunch of wary amusement. “I should be terrified that the Hero With No Fear is _afraid_.”

“Maybe,” Anakin’s smile was a barely there tilt of his lips.

The young Jedi saluted them both one last time before breaking into a dead sprint up the stairs. Anakin closed his eyes, hoping to sense the younger’s presence. He smiled faintly when he felt the weak ray of Light that was Jin in the Darkness that had invaded his senses.

“Skywalker, watch out!” Battle-honed instinct allowed him to deflect a shot straight to the face just in time. The culprit: none other than a bunch of traitors. Anakin swooped in like a bird of prey to the closest group of clones that had crawled their way to them and began to decapitate heads from left to right. Dealing with the clones was therapeutic, in a sense. They were supposed to be their allies, their men. Jedi and clones united against the Separatists. Not Jedi hunters against Jedi.

He slashed and ducked under fire blaster shots, falling in tandem with Shaak Ti at his back. They made a good team. Her precise Makashi fended off stray shots while he advanced into the ranks for a more close-ranged battle. Occasionally, Anakin would duck to let the Togruta Master use an opening and swing at the soldiers herself. Her fatigue slowed her down, but he had stamina to spare while she chipped at the clone’s defences little by little. It was over soon enough.

The last one to live was the one Anakin wanted to speak with the most. He could recognize that blue-tinted armor anywhere. The Republic’s crest on the scratched helmet felt more pointed than ever. Had they really been that oblivious? 

“I wonder how you can live with yourself after this, you piece of _shit_.” Spat Anakin, deflecting the rapid-fire shots that were aimed at his head. He jumped in front of the armored man, facing directly the helmet's dark-tinted helmet.

“Good soldiers follow orders.” The clone answered in a monotone.

“What did they promise you for doing this Jesse?” He asked. Anakin wasn’t stupid. Sometimes freedom was worth more than life, he knew, but experience also taught that slavers rarely told truths. Whatever was what the Republic promised the brothers in exchange for the purge was a _lie._

“Good soldiers follow orders.” 

“That didn’t make any sense the first time you said that, soldier.” Anakin grunted in irritation. Jesse’s answer niggled at his mind. None of the clones showed a particular overzealousness to follow orders beyond the docility they were bred for. It made little sense to do so now and for _this_. He _knew _his men, he _knew _Jesse. Whoever that clone in front of him was, it wasn’t his subordinate.

Getting tired of the vicious onslaught, the Jedi relented under the approaching soldier, deflecting blast after blast, slightly disconcerted that he couldn’t feel a single emotion from his former subordinate. He swung with his lightsaber to finally disarm Jesse. The clone dropped the blaster, cradling his burned arm to his armoured chest before shaking off whatever pain he felt from the injury.

“I trusted you. I really did.” The statement was lukewarm at best, Anakin felt betrayed, yes, but the Force told him it wasn’t the full story. He observed Jesse’s stance. The man was tense- ready to pounce and exploit any opportunity to kill him. Negotiations were pointless. Whatever his instincts told him was irrelevant, Jesse wouldn’t hesitate to attack given the chance. Still slightly skeptical, Anakin relaxed his stance for a moment, waiting to see what the soldier would do if given an opening.

He dodged the swing toward his face and swept the man’s feet under him. The Jedi sealed the stinging pain of betrayal behind his mental shields. Jesse wouldn’t stop no matter what, and yet Anakin couldn’t bring himself to kill him. He Force-pushed the clone against the wall behind him at the first opportunity. Jesse slammed against the durasteel with a sickening crack before falling unconscious. No scream of pain, no curse, no nothing. Now he was sure that there was something wrong with the soldiers. He could feel it in their minds, in their actions, in their presence in the Force.

That faint suspicion that wiggled at the back of his mind made Anakin lose what little animosity he held towards the men- the anger was still there, but it wasn’t the burning inferno it was at the beginning when he that thought that the loyal soldiers had been bought off with a fake promise.

Anakin approached the clone cautiously, looking through the helmet visor, hoping to see something- anything- a spark of regret or even a sign of awareness. The helmet’s inside speakers crackled in a wordless protest, the static of silence. Anakin didn’t see a thing.

He stepped past the downed clone almost absentmindedly and turned away from Shaak Ti’s considering gaze. His mind had calmed down past the disturbances in the Force, his buzzing thoughts quietened, like he had gotten used to a pungent smell. The Jedi reached out into the Force.

He could pinpoint all the younglings around and below him, and Jin running over his head. All of them like the little candle flames his mother used to light for their dead ancestors one day a year back on Tatooine. Bright in the darkness and oh so, palpable. The late Shmi Skywalker had assured her son it was tradition, and that the dead truly appreciated the ritual, but unfortunately he hadn’t seen it for what it was at the time. Anakin breathed in, ignoring Shaak Ti’s distant questions.

His lungs filled with something other than oxygen, and his skin touched something denser than air.

“Skywalker!” He jolted out of his reverie when the Togruta’s palms landed heavily on his shoulders. Over her shoulder, the Temple Guard watched on the scene with neutrality only their- his- her kind managed. 

“Master Shaak Ti,” Anakin blinked dazedly. 

“Return to us, Master Skywalker, we need you!”

“...Understood.” Anakin agreed, his mind sluggish. “We need to figure out what to do.”

The Togruta Master nodded in slight apprehension, her heavy worry for him permeating the air of the Temple. She carefully slid her hands away from his shoulders, her touch gentle for the warrior since birth she was.

“...From my experience as a Padawan- and as a Master of one,” She added ruefully with a small twinge of pride, quickly snuffed out by grief. “Our best bet is to reach the hovercraft silo. From then on we can only hope.”

“We could hide in the city,” Suggested Anakin. “It will be difficult, not to mention conspicuous, but if we manage to find a spaceship with a hyper-drive and big enough for all of us, we can leave the planet relatively safely and quickly.”

“How do you plan on leaving with the youngest ones?” Asked Shaak Ti sceptically. It was a valid question, one of their biggest worries was to figure out how they would get from point A to point B. Anakin hadn’t thought that far into the close future, he hoped that someone else would have a viable solution for that part, yet everyone seemed to depend on him for an answer. 

“Everyone who can carry a baby will carry one- from the older younglings I mean.” 

Shaak Ti frowned in disapproval. “It’s risky, Knight Skywalker. Some children are barely ten years of age.”

“Better than the other options which could be, one, leaving the youngest here to their fate- or two, we _all _wait here until they kill us all.”

The Togruta scowled, knowing that he was right, but unwilling to accept the risk. Anakin knew she would see the truth in his statement eventually, so he left her to meditate on it.

“We could use the shafts.” Piped in the Temple Guard. They stepped forward, entering the discussion circle with slight reverence to their status, marked by a bow. 

Anakin blinked. “Shafts?”

“They’re big enough to fit a youngling, and maybe an adult. And most important of all, they don’t figure on the temple’s official blueprints- for safety measures.” The implications left Anakin feeling mostly confused. “They all lead to the outside, even if they’re more unstable than the evacuation tunnels.

“My idea was a simple placeholder until we figured out something else,” The Jedi backtracked. “My idea was to split the younglings in groups and get the eldest children to hold on to those who couldn’t walk.” Anakin explained further with a hint of panic in his voice. Normally plan A never worked, and he went out of ideas. Step two would be to bullshit his way out of the situation unless someone else came up with something better, not take his terrible idea and run with it.

“We don’t have many options, to be frank. Logic dictates we should be the ones holding the infants as the only adults, but logic also says that it is a terrible idea to venture out unarmed if our hands are occupied.” Mused the Guardian. Shaak Ti merely rubbed her chin in thought, her feelings of doubt stark against the lull of battle.

“So… we either follow Knight Skywalker’s plan or we do nothing at all.” There wasn’t a scenario in which they could win in her eyes, but Shaak Ti’s indecisive musings didn’t manage to cloud Anakin’s own resolution. Giving up was not his thing, and fatalistic tendencies aside, it wasn’t Shaak Ti’s either. She would come up with something soon enough.

“Could we request help?”

“Our communications have been tampered with and any ally we could call on is just as persecuted as we are.” Muttered Anakin, a pang of discouragement nestling itself in his chest. “We have to manage on our own.”

“Then we work with what we have, if we succeed, we celebrate, if not, we fight to the end and save whom we can.” Stated the Guardian. Anakin looked at the being, somehow encouraged. He never paid much attention to their kind. They were supposed to be faceless and anonymous, after all. Every Jedi learned to ignore their constant presence after a while, but this guardian in particular felt… odd.

“Where is the rest of your patrol?” He asked after a brief lull in the conversation.

“My particular squad was killed, Master Skywalker. But I’m sure others have survived and are offering their aid to other members of the Order.” 

Not suspicious at all.

“...I see. Well, we need as many helping hands as we can get.” Anakin paused with a frown. They weren’t enough to even _begin _to make a plausible plan, only the three of them couldn’t possibly herd some one-hundred children through a battlefield. Finding other Jedi to help was nigh impossible and risky, but if one of them were to search for the remaining Knights and ask for help, they could have a small chance of organizing the Crèche.

“You can send me away as you wish, Masters.” Anakin, barely controlled his flinch. The title _Master _had never felt more wrong on someone’s lips than at this moment. “I can certainly inform several Jedi of our plans and location.”

“But should I send you away? That’s the question.” Asked Anakin. He looked at his fellow Jedi. Suspicion aside, leaving the being without backup or supplies in the Temple was a terrible decision.

“Do we have another option?” Asked Shaak Ti, catching on to his train of thought. Her fatigue was getting prominent, one consecutive battle after the other. The small amount of optimism she held previously seemed to vanish. “We _need _other Jedi for this hare-brained plan of ours, Master Skywalker.”

Anakin pursed his lips. It seemed like the final call was his.

“Then it’s decided. Find any Jedi in the area- anyone on our side you can find really. And send them here, we’ll gather the younglings and begin to divide them in groups. From then on… well, we’ll continue from then on.” Shaak Ti's look of faint exasperation told him all he needed to know about his choice of wording.

Anakin nodded once to the guard, who slithered away with a parting bow and an ignited lightsaber. The Jedi closed his eyes, taking inventory of the presents. The younglings downstairs were still alive, the Master and his younglings were still there as well, and Master Jin was close to the Communications room, which appeared to be guarded by a big squad of troopers.

Then he extended his senses to the rooms behind him. A hundred young souls- as tender as grass streaks answered back with eager innocence, as if they were basking in his Force presence. Anakin sent waves of calmness he didn’t feel through the Force. Still clumsy and difficult since he didn’t have any type of bond with any of them. He couldn’t do anything for the rising levels of anxiety and cloying fear, but a little clear-headedness would suffice for now. The Knight opened his eyes, meeting Shaak Ti’s black ones. She was looking at him agape. 

“Knight Skywalker…” She opened her mouth, the muscles where her eyebrows should have been on a human high on her forehead.

“Save it for another time,” He cut her off, not unkindly, but they didn’t have enough time to address whatever seemed to have rattled her. “It’s too quiet, I have to check on the other younglings. I believe Master Kimte is helping in the Crèche. Go check on them and keep your guard up. Explain our plan if you’re sure it would help. We have to get done as many things as possible, and I have to take inventory.”

“Yes, Master Skywalker.” Master Shaak Ti agreed after a brief moment of hesitation with a playfully raised eyebrow contrasting against her haggard features.

“I’m not a Master yet,” He threw behind his back as he descended the stairs. He took it as the peace offering it was. He knew that ultimately it wasn’t _her _decision if he received the rank of Master. Her power in the Council was too limited to sway anyone to her side, whether or not it had something to do with him, but Anakin had earned the title in her eyes. 

“You act like one Master Skywalker, don’t blame us for assuming, it might come true!”

Anakin let himself smile on his way out. It was wishful thinking on her part, but he suspected she was used to being the positive input in tense situations for others’ sake.

He stepped forward and the air suddenly felt a lot thinner, as if he was back on that mountain meadow with Padmé- and Padmé, she… 

Anakin’s thoughts trailed off. He descended the stairs in silence.

* * *

“I told you I would come back!” Anakin shouted as loudly as he dared. The door opened with a whoosh, revealing a livid Twi’Lek girl with her hands on her hips. Seriously, where did they learn that? Every woman in the galaxy knew how to pull the disapproving pose off, seemingly from birth and specifically to shit on Anakin’s decisions.

“You didn’t tell me anything,” She pointed with a disapproving frown on her tiny face. Then she saw Master Rin. “You brought help,” She gasped, her face brightening from its former pinched look of wariness.

“Yes.” Anakin lied haltingly. He didn’t bring anyone, Rin had come by himself, after all. “Uh, this is Master Rin-”

“I know who he is.” She said, coming closer to the Master who gave a small reassuring smile at all the younglings. The air in the room lightened considerably with hope, and no small amounts of relief at the familiar face. Anakin secretly thanked Master Rin for his idea.

“Of course you do.” Anakin clenched his fist in mild frustration. The old Master’s clear amusement didn’t help his temperament either. “Master Rin,” He said through gritted teeth. “Is here to escort you to join his class so you could be all together until the rest of the Masters arrive to help us.”

That last part might have been a small white lie- they didn’t know if there was anyone left to help them, but the younglings didn't need to know the whole truth, did they? Anakin couldn’t bring himself to expose them further to their grim situation.

“You’re lying.” Someone from the crowd piped up, a young human boy that promptly shrunk back when Anakin’s gaze came to rest on him. “W-what I meant is that...” Some younglings in the group tittered at their peer’s impasse, but Anakin didn’t have the patience to delve on any of his. They’ve had luck for now, but all it took was one mistake, one clone, one blaster and one shot.

“Enough,” The younglings shrunk back, especially the outspoken one. “Listen to me very closely.” He commanded, noting how the spunky Twi’Lek girl stepped back and joined a small Zygerrian girl in the front of the group. “You will go out in an orderly line with Master Rin in front, and myself on the back, calmly and silently and we’ll make our way through the hallway to Master Rin’s classroom. As we walk through there, I want you all to keep your eyes on the floor- I’ll know if someone peeks so don’t do it.” Anakin advised, hoping he didn’t sound too urgent.

All the children nodded wide-eyed and arranged themselves in an orderly line as he’d asked.

* * *

Returning to the Crèche was like swimming through syrup. The bitter-sweet one that his mother used to make from a certain root he didn’t bother to remember the name of that was very resilient to the s*nds of Tatooine. Younglings dealt with, Anakin returned to the Jedi in the Crèche. If a squad of clones were to attack, he feared that Shaak Ti wouldn’t be able to hold them back.

“Master Shaak Ti,” He called at the Togruta. The woman had collapsed in an exhausted crouch, unable to fight off her fatigue. 

“Master Skywalker.” She greeted, wiping away a stray drop of sweat that trailed down her red forehead.

“How are the younglings?” Anakin asked out of lack of topics to discuss as they waited.

“The older ones are barely coping, and they’re the ones holding together the youngest children,” She said. Anakin winced, regretting that he even asked.

“How old are they?”

“The oldest is fourteen,” Anakin nodded, he imagined as such. A Padawan on his way of becoming a Crèche Master. “The rest barely reach twelve, the majority are younger than ten by their species’ standards.”

After a few seconds spent in nervous silence, she looked at Anakin with curiosity.

“What you did back there, Master Skywalker...”

Anakin looked at her questioningly, not knowing the instance she was referring to. Noticing his reaction, the Togruta pursed her lips. Then she shook her head in dismissal. “Nevermind.”

“What do you-” He didn’t get to finish his inquiry when he sensed a weird feeling through the Force, like a vibration that resonated deep in his core. 

“What is this?” Was Shaak’s shaky question, noticing the tingle in her bones too. They lit up their sabers almost in unison, twin blue lights illuminating the dim hallways of the once great Jedi Temple.

“I must admit this is one of the most extraordinary happenstances I’ve seen in my life, Master Skywalker and Shaak Ti.”

“Who are you and what, in the Sith hells, are you talking about?” Anakin asked testily.

A green lightsaber lit up the rest of the hallway, revealing Master Yarael Poof in all of his pasty glory, accompanied by a Master-Padawan pair and the Temple Guard. Anakin vaguely recognized the duo as Master Depa Billaba and her Padawan, Caleb Dune- Dume? Dume.

“I knew he was kind of loopy,” He muttered with a quiet sigh, lowering his lightsaber shortly after with a sigh.

“Knight Skywalker, you seem on edge.” Commented Poof as if they weren’t in the middle of a battle zone that used to be the Temple’s most sacred halls. Anakin fought with his innate snippy response that would have irritated Obi-Wan immensely and instead inclined in a curt bow at the Quermian and his three companions.

“On the contrary, I couldn’t be more glad of your appearance Master,” He said, hiding his chagrin expertly. The statement was true. The Force’s foreboding prods against his mental shields hadn’t quieted down in the least, like a timer at the back of his head that got closer and closer to zero. “We need your help to leave Coruscant as soon as possible.”

* * *

Anakin observed the moon high in the Coruscanti sky. Some part of the Temple had caught on fire, judging by the plumes of dark smoke that wafted around the highest towers of the building. He didn’t feel any tremors, but instinct suggested that some part of the ancient sanctuary had collapsed due to an explosion, just like Jin had said. It was a strategic move. They would force out of their cover any Jedi in that area of the Temple unless they wanted to die of suffocation. The rest would be crushed.

Anakin sat against the window and stretched his sore muscles. The dawn could bring a whole new set of problems. Knowing the clones’ MO, they wouldn’t let a stone unturned until the temple was destroyed with the Jedi inside. The enemy knew that the younglings were still alive and trapped in the temple. Fleeing without being noticed was impossible, and their deaths would have been reported to the Senate otherwise. It was a matter of time before a second wave of clone troopers was sent to scour the castle and the upper levels of Coruscant.

Anakin sought out the Force and extended his senses as far as he dared. Master Jin was still in the Communications room. It took him an hour to reach his destination, and another one to begin working on interrupting the broadcast with his basic knowledge. Unfortunately, the young Jedi didn’t have much time left, as the group of dull and utterly blank clones clustered around the entrance of his location, trying to find a way in. His chances of escaping were slim, but what he’d done could save countless lives.

“Knight Skywalker.” Greeted Mace Windu’s former Padawan.

“Master Billaba,” Conflict with the Council or not, Anakin had always respected the woman’s competence even if her no nonsense attitude was aimed at him more often than not. He noted she was a little worse for wear, sweaty and tired, like she’s fought her way to the Crèche. Not too far from the truth, Anakin imagined. 

“I apologise for our late arrival. I’m afraid it obstructed our path, they demolished the west wing of the Temple was completely with thermal detonators. Any way to the main halls is cut off.” She explained. Her voice sounded calm on the surface, like that of any balanced Jedi, yet it carried an undercurrent of weariness. 

“That might be a problem,” Anakin said, patting at the space beside him in invitation. Billaba inspected the spot, before lowering herself in one fluid motion.

“Possibly. I’m afraid it might set a chain reaction.” Commented Billaba with a thoughtful nod.

“If it hasn’t happened yet, then we still have time, so that’s a win in my books.” He looked for Shaak Ti, who was engrossed in a serious debate with Poof on the other side of the room. It was going in her favour, judging by the subtle, almost controlled twitching of her montrals, but both Masters’ signatures in the Force felt more and more agitated. Anakin couldn’t hear what was being discussed, but he had to interrupt the discussion before it had the chance to turn into a downright argument. He got up and stepped forward, regardless of the warning look the Togruta sent his way.

“Master Shaak Ti, we have to evacuate the younglings.” Anakin interrupted without remorse, impatient to get out of the rotting Temple once and for all.Cutting the discussion between the two Council members short seemed like a good idea, and the Force seemed to agree with him on that decision, as did the Togruta Master. They could fight all they wanted when they got out of this mess, but the last thing they needed was to be heard arguing by the younglings in the Crèche. 

Staying here looked like it was influencing the Jedi’s thought processes. Once a beacon of light for the Jedi and the Republic, the ancient Temple’s walls were absorbing the suffering of its dying Jedi. All the pain and suffering accumulated and battered at his shields continuously, despite the time he spent reinforcing them in his downtime. Something that that strong could twist untrained minds into something irreparable and bend unfocused ones off track. Just to be extra cautious, Anakin checked his shields once more.

“The temple has a few exits points above and around the main entrances that aren’t on ground level,” Shaak Ti began with a contemplative look in his direction. “The Temple Guard said they were ventilation shafts, but to me they sound more like exits for species that could fly, back when their members were part of the Order. If we were to climb to them- which we definitely can because maintenance protocols require access for everyone- then we _might _be good to go. From then on we can climb back down on the other side.”

“Are there any passages close by?” Asked Billaba, somehow reluctant to join the conversation. “I’m afraid, we’ll be shot if we choose to go through the main entrances.”

Shaak Ti and the Temple Guard shared a look of mutual understanding that Anakin didn’t quite understand, but given what they’ve went through- well, the strongest bonds were always formed on the battlefield, he thought, forcing himself to not look in Jesse’s direction. They seemed to reach a conclusion during their short, non-verbal debate.

“There are, but Master Poof did some recognisance with Tebha here, and they concluded that the routes have the heaviest clone traffic. We could avoid them, it’s possible with the Initiates in toll as well, but…”

“There’s always a risk,” Anakin concluded. He saw Billaba nod from his peripheral, her agreement wafting through the force like a distant smell.

“We have little choice,” His fellow human concluded. “Speaking frankly, I don’t understand why we are lingering so much here. This is a prime target for the troops.”

“Here is safest, actually the clones probably reported the wing to be empty. We won’t expect any attacks on the lowest levels for now.”

“And, if memory serves me right,” Added Poof, speaking for the first time since his stalemate with Shaak Ti. “The Crèche is heavily guarded against intruders.”

“What do you mean?” Anakin asked. The Crèche had the same basic outlay as the rest of the building, in the sense that it was planned to be balanced for easier meditation. As far as he knew, it was one wing of many with no particular purpose that was turned into a Crèche. They turned expectantly to the Master. He was the oldest of the present- if there were some hidden mechanisms in place, Poof would be the only one to know of them. 

“The Temple was build to be a stronghold, young Skywalker. There are several protective protocols in place, mostly placed with Force techniques the Jedi Order doesn’t have any records of.”

“That old?”

“Old and forgotten I fear.” Anakin looked at the old Master who returned his inquisitive gaze with a quirk of his eyebrows. The Jedi could sense that there was something more to it than what he’s telling them. Anakin chose not to push despite his curiosity.

“In any case,” Anakin shook his head, storing the little tidbit of information for later. “They will come back soon, I saw what they did on the lowest levels, crechlings are definitely a target.” The Jedi warned with slight fervor in his voice. 

“We’ve wasted enough time.”

* * *

The solution they decided on after a quick, but tense votation, was to divide the children in five groups of fifteen younglings each, with the eldest children holding one baby or a young toddler. 

It had been a point of conflict for all of them, Master Shaak Ti, reluctant but resigned, had protested about the little protection the children had, with Master Poof serving as the voice of reason and neutrality. Billaba had expressed her agreement with the distribution, showcasing a pragmatism that was so characteristic of her lineage.

Anakin thought scattering would give them a higher chance of survival. Whether they were five of them leading a group of hundreds or one leading a group of twenty-something, the results would be the same if a group of clones began open fire. Silence and mobility would be the only advantage they had, as limited as they were. 

Somewhere between pointed reprimands from Shaak Ti and sullen silence from Dume, Jesse had woken up, bright and alert. Anakin was concerned the clone would report where they were and what were they doing.

“Don’t think I would forget about you.” Anakin muttered. With a last look of conflicted contempt, he removed Jesse’s helmet, just to see if it was him under the familiar visor. Strong features that he shared with every other clone, the familiar tattoo of the Republic’s crest on his bald head and brown eyes that couldn’t focus on anything in particular. The eyes convinced Anakin that it wasn’t really Jesse. This clone was nothing but a fake- a replica designed to lure and kill Jedi. 

The soldier was on the verge of losing consciousness again, probably from a concussion but, all he needed was a small nudge. A nudge Anakin would gladly give with a sharp twist of his wrist that knocked out whatever remaining wits Jesse had. He dropped the clone’s head on the floor with a thud. He looked around the hallway of the Crèche. Shaak Ti had already left with her group a little after Poof, who got paired up with Kimte.

The young Crèche Master was adamant to be left as a distraction for any clone troopers that could wander to the Crèche, but Shaak Ti had persuaded him to be one last line of defense for the younglings if Poof got ambushed. Luckily, the Crèche Master was sufficiently convinced to join them. Shaak Ti’s compassion was something Anakin marveled at. In a different lifetime she might have been the Jedi he could strive to be, but for now, he would rather be a sword, not a shield.

He heard the cautious footsteps of Caleb Dume before he even saw the boy. The Jedi should be glad that the teen had learned none of the stealth techniques that were so vital back during the war, but now it seemed like a terrible idea to let the teen so… vulnerable. Maybe Billaba should have delayed her choice in taking a Padawan so soon after the war. Surely the boy could wait for a few more years, no one would send him to the Service Corps. Anakin huffed quietly, wondering when he’s become such a mother hen. 

Worrying was Obi-Wan’s job, wasn’t it?

“Padawan.” Caleb startled, not having expected Anakin to sense him, it took a lot from the Jedi to not snort in good humor. He didn’t think that the Padawan would have appreciated it.

“Knight Skywalker- If I’m not overstepping any boundaries… Can I ask why you didn’t end the man’s life? Surely it’s easier- and kinder, than keeping him alive at this time.” Asked Billaba’s Padawan with a note of polite bewilderment. Anakin looked into his eyes with a smile of bitter amusement. The boy looked surprised by his reaction.

“Attachment, Padawan, it’s attachment. And with attachments the answers aren’t as clear, do remember that.” Anakin answered, ignorant of the look of contemplation the younger sent his way. He looked away in surprise at his own words, confessing his… less than desirable traits didn’t feel as damning as he thought it would. It was almost freeing. It felt good.

But now it wasn’t the time.

“Go with your Master, your group is leaving soon after mine.” He dismissed the Padawan with a wave of his hand. The boy’s disappointment was tangible and quickly forgotten after Billaba’s warning glance. Anakin swallowed his hurt. It stung to realize he could let down even a little Padawan. 

The Jedi observed as the scared younglings tried their best to listen to Billaba’s instructions. The woman sounded calm and composed, but some children had seen the carnage in the broom closet no matter how hard they’ve tried to spare them the heartbreak.

Some lost a beloved teacher, others countless companions. Even Anakin wasn’t coping as well as he thought he was. Death wasn’t unusual during the war, even more so when his troops were the organic ones between the two sides, but seeing children suffer the same fate as trained soldiers made Anakin angry. Angry and hurt. It stirred something primal in him, especially since he and Padmé- radiant, beautiful Padmé- would be parents themselves so soon.

Wrapping his head around that was another matter on itself, however. Something he had to do at a later time, not in the middle of a crisis. For now, he had to content himself with releasing his emotions to the Force as best as he could.

Departing was the most difficult step, in his opinion. The younglings were afraid and uncooperative, or at least disquieted and the babies in the Crèche were easily disturbed from their sleep and prone to loud wails and tantrums. The youngest ones were most sensitive to the surrounding emotions, since they had no shields that could be used to block the outside world. Every emotion was felt ten times over, had explained Shaak Ti when he’d asked. The worst thing was the sheer pain and misery they were exposed to once they abandoned their warm cribs.

Even children noticed the sharp disturbances in the Force that that gave trouble even to the most experienced Masters’ mind shields. The situation became too real- too difficult to comprehend. Then the terror set in. As callous as it sounded to Anakin’s ears, they couldn’t afford the noise a panic attack made.

Maybe he should see them off. His own group was still being wrangled by Rin in his classroom, and frankly, Anakin didn’t want to know what was going on in there. He made his way to Billaba’s group that was just a little bigger than his own, as he observed every little face that looked around the hall.

The children pushed each other around, whispering quietly in their companions’ ears. Anakin couldn’t remember their names even if it killed him.

“Master Skywalker, are we going to die?” Asked one of the older boys. Why was he asking him and not Billaba was beyond him. The Master was plenty more qualified in wrangling children, if only because her commanding voice broke no argument.

“Maybe,” He blurted without thinking. No! Kriff, he meant to say no. The youngling’s face crumpled in terror as several others cried out in worry. Billaba’s amusement was more mocking than anything else. “What I meant was- what I wanted to say was that…” ****

He closed his eyes with a sigh. There was no use in lying. If the boy was aware enough to ask, then he was aware enough to understand the situation they were in. Well, with as much padding and sugarcoating as he could add. Anakin knelt at eye-level with the youngling, putting a comforting hand on his small shoulder. ****

“Young one, nothing is set in stone. But our fate is in the hands of the Force. Do you believe in the Force?”

“Of course, Master!”

“Then the Force will be with you, I’m sure that you’ve heard of the saying.” The boy nodded. “You should know it’s true. Remembering that will help you, if we can’t protect you then it will.” 

He sent waves of his own confidence in the Force, watching with keen eyes how it calmed the group. He turned towards Billaba and Padawan Dume. Windu’s Padawan was nothing but surprised- at what he didn’t know, but he was surprised nonetheless. Anakin smiled at her and Dume as a last goodbye. They were ready to depart. Whether they would survive was unclear.

“May the Force be with you, as well.” Was the only thing that came to mind- the only thing that made sense at the moment. Only the Force could save them now.

“May the Force be with you.” Billaba understood the sentiment for what it was. Even if the gaggle of younglings behind her didn’t fully understand the meaning of the saying, they repeated dutifully after the Master together with the older youngling.

He followed the group’s Force signature until they reached the end of the stairs, point from which Anakin didn’t dare to follow. He didn’t check on Shaak Ti either, despite the wispy threads of a fledgling bond that had developed between them. 

Ten minutes- then it was Anakin’s turn.

* * *

“Come on,” Anakin prompted the few lagging younglings behind him. The narrow staircase on which they raced down was one of the more secure paths to their destination, but the enclosed space was claustrophobic and very much a trap. But it was one of the more secret pathways to the bottom levels, only found if you spent enough time in the Temple as a bored child.

“Master Skywalker,” Panted one of the younger children- Anakin thought his name was Vis. “Master Skywalker I can’t run anymore.”

Anakin slowed down, urging the Twi’Lek girl to continue at the same pace despite the baby she was holding in her arms’ discontent wails.

The protection of the Crèche was gone, they weren’t safe any longer, and some of those most attuned to the Force could feel it. It was a sign that their senses have cleared from the shroud of darkness had settled around the Temple. 

Anakin approached the smallest youngling in his group and picked the young boy up in a piggyback ride despite his gasp of surprise. Shortly after, a pair of short hands wrapped themselves around his neck in a secure hold. He slowed down even more in case someone else lagged behind. The lack of sleep and nourishment was getting to him. The Jedi already felt slight fatigue from his previous encounters, and a change of pace would let him regain strength.

“Thank you, Master Skywalker.”

“No problem.” Anakin said, ignoring the warm breath that ghosted his ear. “Not everyone can run as fast as your friend.” He pointed towards the aquamarine Twi’Lek at the front of the group.

Vis giggled and hid his red face in Anakin’s shoulder. They continued down the cramped staircase with Anakin at the back, trying not to slip on the polished stairs. He got little to no warning before a plasma bolt whizzed past his head and imbedded itself on the wall on his left.

“Duck!” He commanded the confused children before he ignited his lightsaber to deflect a dozen more shots. Hundreds more slipped past his guard, aiming at his defenseless charges. The Jedi threw Vis from his back unceremoniously with a grunt of exertion, diving forward to swing at the closest clones. 

“Run to cover and don’t come out until I say so!”

The wails of two infants rose in unison like sirens in stereo around Anakin’s ears. He pressed forward, ducking and slicing clone after clone- unpredictable, swift- he cut limbs inelegantly and mercilessly. A quick erratic skirmish that tired his strained muscles even more. 

Anakin looked around the tight passage. There were no fuzzy Force signatures advancing in their direction, but they have alerted the whole wing of their presence. Soon the floor would be crawling with troops. Anakin relaxed his tensed muscles and took a deep breath. He began counting the casualties. Six small bodies lay sprawled across the stairs. They didn’t have time to scatter, or they got confused in the chaos and- it didn’t matter they were dead either way, he snarled at himself.

_There is no death, only the Force. _

Why did it sound like the biggest lie in the Universe, then?

“Master Skywalker can we come out?” Asked a young voice from behind one of the Temple’s monolithic columns at the bottom of the stairs. Anakin didn’t hear, nor did he try to answer.

A Kaminoan girl had fallen on top of the baby she was carrying. It was still alive and screaming loudly from under her (Thank the Force; the baby was alive) and getting soaked in her blood. Anakin pushed her still warm corpse away with care, unsure of how to even pick up an infant this small.

He was supposed to learn how to do it with Padmé at his side, with their own-

“Master Skywalker!” He looked up in bewilderment. The Twi’Lek girl and a dozen younglings had stepped forward from their hiding places. Mostly unarmed, he noted with faint relief, but terribly traumatized. A pair didn’t even move from their hiding place, rocking against each other with silencing palms clasped over their mouths.

Anakin licked his chapped lips. “I-I don’t know how to..” He gestured down at the baby, his voice was rough.

He ignored the commotion towards the back of the small crowd until one of the younglings threw himself on the young Kaminoan’s corpse with a visceral scream of pain. Anakin stared at the human boy, not quite understanding the scene that played in front of him. He tentatively reached his hand toward the youngling, hoping to calm the storm of emotions in the Force.

“No! I don’t want to go!” Small shoulders flinched under his tentative touch. “Please let me stay with Lu, Master Skywalker!” He pleaded tear-eyed. The rest of the younglings huddled closer together, hugging and murmuring at each other. Young faces frozen in wide-eyed shock looked on unblinking as some tried to comprehend what was happening. Others mourned their dead crechemates.

“Master we have to leave, please,” Implored the Twi’Lek girl. Her aquamarine eyes peered at him. Anakin felt their desperation- fear- sadness. He understood it even, but right now all he could do was stand still, waiting for help. 

_Hold the head, Ani, and rock like the morning breeze_

Anakin shook his head, chasing the phantom of the memory. He couldn’t find anything in the Force except the faint flickers of life that were some of the six hit children. He couldn’t do anything for them, especially with their wounds. The Wookie girl expired soon after from a gushing wound on her neck, followed by her companion before he could even reach towards them. Another unknown Jedi died on a planet far, far away. 

Closing his eyes felt like giving up.

Anakin’s words failed him, but his legs obeyed when he commanded them to kneel, so he would take the small victory.

“Hold the head, just hold the head, Master Skywalker!” Someone shrieked from the back of the small crowd. Anakin thought it was a Mon Calamari boy called Sinta. The Jedi scooped up the bloody bundle, hoping that he was holding it correctly. Blood dripped down the soft blanket wrapped around the child as he stepped away with slippery boots.

“Where is my lightsaber,” He muttered at himself. There. Beside the corpse of a Twi’Lek boy Anakin couldn’t name. He picked the weapon he had dropped when he counted the injured. (Now deceased). It never felt right, but this time... this time it hit hard.

Anakin scooped the baby like he would a pile of clothes, careful to rest the small head on his elbow as instructed. The babe was so small it fit on the length of his arm, but it was flailing its diminutive fists against his chest in a frustrated attempt to convey something Anakin couldn’t hope to comprehend. He fidgeted with the small bundle, trying to quiet down its rising cries of discomfort and pain it couldn’t comprehend.

“Girl, take the ‘saber.” He instructed the Twi’Lek girl that was standing beside him like a stone statue. He pulled his robes away with two free fingers, revealing his utility belt.The youngling hesitated before surrendering the squealing infant in her arms to her Zygerrian friend- Nedjem, or something similar. She reached between the folds, unclasping the magnetic holster that held Utrila’s bloody weapon with shaky hands.

“Master, I-I-” The Jedi shook his head, pressing his palm against her head. 

“Take the ‘saber and use it when you need it the most.”

The girl was crying- all the younglings were crying or in a state of acute shock. Rising cries of pain through the Force battled against each other in Anakin’s head, creating a cacophony that he couldn’t comprehend.

_Choose another path_

Anakin searched the source of the voice in alarm, lightsaber clutched tightly in his hand. The Jedi ignored the younglings’ startled cries as he ignited his weapon once more. Anakin knew he saw something, he was sure of it. An empty wall, full of blaster marks and small splatters of blood greeted the Jedi. Anakin held the crying baby in his arms tighter. The Mon Calamari girl that was shot against it wheezed for the last time before going still, her fragile chest halting to a sudden stop.

“Take the ‘saber and keep it,” He said to the Twi’Lek, while he tried to catch his breath. His heartbeat wouldn’t slow down as the Force screamed in his ear that there was something wrong. “I know you can’t use it yet but it’s better than anything.” Aquamarine fingers held the too heavy cylinder in their untrained grasp with uncertainty. Anakin mumbled his quiet encouragement with a steady hand on her bony shoulder and steered the group forward.****

“Come on, young one.” He grabbed the young boy hunched over the Kaminoan girl’s corpse and pulled him away. The youngling trashed feebly, trying to escape Anakin’s iron grip and resume his position beside the cool body. The Jedi held on, bearing the weak hits and pitiful wails with stoicness he didn’t feel. He felt like a monster for doing that, but they couldn’t stay for much longer.****

“Master, please don’t leave her, please.” The boy clutched his robes in a vice-like grip. His previous fight had left him completely, save for the occasional desperate looks towards the fallen girl. His eyes were pleading, green as Naboo’s valleys.****

“We can’t take her with us,” Anakin swallowed heavily. His eyes lifted towards the rest of the children, who watched the spectacle with uncomprehending fear. “We can’t. We have to move on.” No one said a word in protest, save for the boy who gave out one last whimper in the fallen Kaminoan’s direction.****

“Come on, Jaaryal.” Prompted one of the younglings. “We- we, Lu would tell you to stop being such a cry-baby.” That got a reaction out of Jaaryal, the poor boy hiccuped, and Anakin feared he would burst into tears once more. The youngling nodded against his chest while wiping the tears on his red cheeks. Anakin hasn’t been that proud since Ahsoka.

* * *

The explosion was spectacular in size and level of destruction. Effective, recognized Anakin, effective and deadly. The pillars of the Temple shook under the weight of falling stone and debris.

“Master Skywalker it will crush us!"

“No, it won’t!” He screamed over the loud rumbles of falling stone. “Trust the Force! We’re safe!”

They were safe, according to Anakin’s calculations. Explosives were a limited resource, albeit a useful one in this situation. The Republic could spare enough to lay the Temple to ruin, after all, the Senate’s fear of the Jedi outweighed the extra cost.

They continued their sprint down the stairs, which were empty of corpses and enemies alike. The Jedi looked down to the child in his arms that was still crying its little heart out, he couldn’t hold it forever since he needed both hands to fight, but for now he tried to shush it the best he could while on the run. The jostling irritated the small one, but Anakin didn’t know how to calm it down. Small feet and fists batted against his chest in discontent. Tired and pitying, Anakin tried to calm the baby through the Force. 

Did someone know the babe’s name anymore? Kimte did as Crèche Master. Maybe some of the youngest crechelings did too, but for a moment Anakin imagined what would happen if no one did. The infant already lost its parents. It lost its home and the Order that protected it. It lost a whole future.

(A voice that sounded like master Yoda whispered that names didn’t really matter, they gave way to attachment and possession.)

(Anakin Skywalker’s name mattered everything to him.)

“Master Skywalker,” The Twi’Lek girl panted. Anakin scowled through a sharp wave of pain that rattled his brain as yet another Jedi died in torment. He never got the girl’s name. “Master Skywalker, I-I don’t know if I can wield the lightsaber, I’m too scared.” She squeezed her eyes, expecting to be scolded for the lack of control over her emotions.

“What’s your name?” He interrupted whatever growing fears were forming in her head. He turned off his ‘saber, tired of turning it on and off again for no apparent reason.

“Wha-”

“What’s your name, young one.”

“I’m Jedi Initiate Sasha Vek... Master.”

“Sasha… Fear is what keeps us alive, what drives us forward. Brushing against the Dark Side isn’t as bad as dying, as long as you don’t embrace it. All I can ask is to be mindful, and to try your best to save your crechemates, despite your fear.”

“I see, Master.” 

Sasha stayed quiet for all of three minutes. Anakin could feel her restless curiosity bubbling. His flippant dismissal of the Dark Side troubled her. “Master, is it… wrong that I want to protect them? My friends?” The Jedi didn’t answer immediately. No one’s ever asked him a question concerning attachment, it was him who got reprimanded by others on the topic more often than not. And Ahsoka seemed to have a tighter control of her emotions than him, so he didn’t find any need to lecture her on the dangers of it. His first instinct was to parrot the Code’s tenants word for word, but little Sasha already knew the rules of behavior by heart. And yet, they haven’t resolved her doubts.

“No. I also want to protect those I hold dear.” Anakin said finally, letting his index finger be squeezed by the human baby in his arms. The small thing had exhausted its energy reserves, and now it simply lay still in the warm crook of his elbow, making soft cooing noises. Anakin guessed it was hungry. “And I don’t think I’m wrong for wanting that.”

Sasha nodded thoughtfully with a curious glint in her eyes. She looked at him differently than she did before, Anakin hoped it was a good thing. The Jedi knew she would continue to mull it over, since his answer clarified nothing for her either. If anything, it complicated Sasha’s view of the Code and the Jedi that practiced its teachings. And Anakin couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty for doing that.

_I beg you, young one, choose another path_

“Did you hear that?” Anakin asked suddenly, clutching the small youngling in his arms tighter. The children stopped to listen closely to their surroundings, more than scared of potential danger. 

“What? No, Master.” Several heads shook silently, dashing Anakin’s hopes. It wasn’t a voice per se, no one spoke. It felt more like a warning through the Force, but clearer than anything he’d ever sensed before. Almost like a training bond impression, but also nothing like it. 

Anakin searched confusedly the last wisps of the foreign presence he could perceive, yet the more he reached over the more it escaped him. Confused, but disposed to trust in the Force, Anakin didn’t acknowledge Sasha’s answer as he searched for the Padawan that had been assigned to his group. Shaak Ti said that the Force had been guiding them, he was disposed to trust it. 

“Padawan Sawesee, please take the baby, I need both to use a lightsaber.”

The young Iktotchi made her way to him and held her outstretched hands. Anakin placed the small blanketed bundle in her arms with no small amounts of relief. The baby felt like a burden during the few minutes he had held it in his arms, Anakin had never held something as precious in his life.

“Master Skywalker, where are we going?” Asked Sawesee, giving her finger to the babbling baby at the crook of her elbow.

“Good question,” Anakin answered. He was glad that plan A was working so far. The question was why it felt like the worse decision he could make. “The second floor of the east wing is riddled with secret exits, we’re leaving through one of them.”

_Change or death_

Confused and more than a little paranoid, Anakin made the children stop. They were about to reach their destination, but the incessant pounding in his head and the constant ring of the Force made him stop and reconsider. Something wasn’t right. Whether it was because of a gut feeling, a premonition, or the pesky voice in his head, Anakin _had_ to stop.

“What’s going on,” Asked one of the younglings in the back of his diminishing group. It dawned on Anakin as clear as day. “They will blow up the entire Temple,” He whispered to himself for the younglings’ sake. It made sense, Billaba had said they’ve done it on the other wing first because it was the main entrance to the Temple. Jin said he heard of the destruction in the underground tunnels.

His ears rang like glass bells on Life Day. It was obvious in hindsight. The ancient Temple of the Jedi Order didn’t matter that much to the clone troopers or to the Senate. They would tear down the entire east wing, and Anakin could only pray to the Force for guidance and enough luck for the eleven sentients in his care.

“The attackers- the troopers, used thermal detonators in the west wing of the Temple.” He began noticing the immediate wave of denial-fear-anger that passed through the children like an eclipse. “It’s not that difficult to imagine they would do the same to the entire Temple- In fact I can feel it in the Force that they will.”****

“But they can’t!” Protested a familiar boy. Anakin vaguely recognized the human as the poignantly attuned to the Force boy from Sasha’s class. Several other voices and presences in the Force rose in agreement at the exclamation. How dare the clones do that to their home? How dare they?

_How dare they?_ ****

“They can, and they will, so we have to move. Now.” Pressed Anakin. He pushed Sawesee forward and herded the children to the end of the hall. Beyond the doors was the last set of stairs that would lead them to their objective.****

“Master Skywalker, are we going to die?” It was Vis, Anakin had half the mind to ask where he learned of the concept of death at six, but experience dictated to not underestimate people on the base of their age.****

“Is Master Shaak Ti and Master Poof’s groups going to die?” Intervened Sasha before he could open his mouth to answer, Anakin noted her defiant stance, as if she was daring him to ignore the question. The Jedi stopped. He observed the youngling for a few precious seconds and then decided to not waste his breath with false placations. She was too shrewd as to be fooled.****

“I don’t know, they might not even suspect of the possibility- and _we can’t go back to warn them_.” He hurried before the little Twi’Lek got any ideas. Her face soured as she expressed her discontentment in the way only younglings knew how to. “We’re going with Master Shaak Ti’s first idea, the hovercraft silo is bound to have some vehicle we could use to leave this Force forsaken planet once and for all.”****

No one protested to that, and so they turned around.

In its basic blueprints, the Temple was a long, continuous hallway that twisted and turned in patterns that those who haven’t spent their whole life memorizing them couldn’t quite understand. It had several purposes, Jocasta Nu had mentioned in History and Architecture of the Ancient Jedi for senior Padawans. The first, and most important, was for walking meditation. There were no dead ends, just endless loops, and one could spend lifetimes exploring every nook and cranny. The second was to keep away intruders- the only way a sentient would know their way around the ancient halls would be from experience.

Anakin had it difficult from the beginning, with no navigational skills to speak of. The only way to move from one point to another without Obi-Wan was through trial and failure. Getting lost was easy and forgetting an already memorized route even more so. 

“Has anyone ever been on this side of the temple?” He asked the younglings. Several shook their heads in denial while others were too distracted to answer.

“No Master Skywalker, are we lost?” Asked the young Iktotchi Padawan.

“No… not exactly.” 

They were undeniably and utterly lost. 

Not that Anakin would tell them that. 

He spun on his heel, lightsaber familiar in his grip.

* * *

Thankfully, the path from the lower levels of the Crèche was more direct than the one from the upper levels- the marvels of Jedi architecture, you see- unfortunately, however; they got ambushed by the biggest group of clones there could be in the Force-forsaken Temple. The positive of _that_ situation was that Anakin went first and closed the durasteel door just in time. The con, on the other side, was that he got shot.

Anakin pressed his hand firmly against the wound on his side. The bleeding wasn’t severe, but the pain made him grit his teeth. He sorely missed his battle armor right now. A pair of hands pressed on top of his as he ducked against an unsurprisingly accurate shot from behind the corner. The doors closed automatically once more, and the clones stopped shooting. Then, they were in a stalemate while the clones searched for another shooting point and he formed the bare skeleton of a workable strategy. 

“Sasha, what the hell in hell! Go back to the others.” He screamed incredulously at the Twi’Lek youngling, who stubbornly pressed even harder on the blaster shot under his ribs. It had been a lucky hit- for a moment Anakin was stupid enough to let himself get surrounded by a squad of trigger-happy bucket heads.

“Master I’m not going back, you need help.”

“Yes,” He hissed in irritation coupled with another sharp pand of pain in his lower thigh from another gratuitous hit, courtesy of the Commander of the bucket heads a few meters away. “But not from _you_. Especially not from you! Go back before you get killed! I didn’t give you the lightsaber for you to get brave!”

“No!”

Anakin looked at her incredulously.

“ ‘No’,” He mocked in a high-pitched voice. “Have you gone crazy? This is a direct order.”

The little twerp had the gall to straighten defiantly and look him in the eye stubbornly. “I’m not a soldier.”

“Well, I’m your Master, and I’m telling you back away!”

“You’re not my-”

“Don’t argue with me, Ahsoka!”

There was a brief silence before the blaster fire resumed. Anakin’s mouth clicked shut as he turned away from Sasha’s stunned face. It was easy to Force-push the lithe girl into an open shaft he tried to use as an escape route. He was too big to fit, but the youngling fit perfectly in the small hole.

“Hey!-” He slammed the vent hatch shut with a sigh of relief, despite the furious banging and shouting against the durasteel. He could last enough for them to get away, he hoped. The clones advanced towards him slowly, but surely, it was a steady tactic that worked best when the enemies were fewer. It was funny, Anakin supposed, since he helped perfect that one.

Anakin held the lightsaber close to his body, as he struggled to prop himself up against the twisted stone column he had hidden behind. One well-timed flick of the blue plasma light deflected a blaster shot somewhere to his right. The clone fell with a loud thud of plastoid on tiles.

He took a deep breath through the searing pain in his side and stepped into the line of fire. The Force guided him as faithfully as ever, and his reflexes seemed just as sharp save for a few stumbles when he overstretched his injured side. Many of his deflections missed, but the point was to advance slowly towards the squad until he could meet them halfway. Just close enough to attack. It worked like a charm. Three clones fell instantly with a wide strike of Djem and another two with a sloppy deflect he stumbled through.

The next few swings Anakin took weren’t as successful, his form getting sloppier as the pain in his leg worsened. That single mistake led to an opening the troopers readily exploited. The Jedi ducked and dove for cover on the opposite side of his first hideaway. A twinge in his left shoulder told Anakin that he wasn’t as quick in dodging as he thought he was. At that point, taking another step was impossible, the wound in his thigh too raw and painful for him to ignore. He tried to pull away cautiously at the fabric melted into his skin with little success and more searing pain. 

The clones resumed their former strategy, this time more assured in their success and with a defined target. Anakin cursed under his breath. There were only so many times he could use the same technique before he got himself killed. Not to mention it was almost impossible to walk- let alone run up to them. It looked like the clones knew they had him cornered because their pace seemed to quicken, much to his consternation. Anakin lifted his ‘saber with his good hand, fingers already trembling as shock began to set in. 

The Jedi could count the seconds until the first blaster barrel peeked from around the corner to shoot him in the head. Anakin took a hitched breath and decided to go down fighting even if it had to be from the floor and with a single hand.

“Anakin, how do you always get yourself into these situations?” Asked a familiar voice in fond exasperation.

“Great, I really am dying if I’m hallucinating about _Obi-Wan_ of all people.” Anakin huffed in annoyance. His heart squeezed at his Master’s voice, their last conversation standing out starkly in his mind. He shifted a bit closer to the onslaught of blaster fire, calculating gaze, trying to find an angle that could let him take down just one more clone if he had the opportunity. It was a futile endeavor since he didn’t think he could do it even if his arm wasn’t trembling as badly.

“I’m not sure if that’s a complement or not. Either way, Anakin, would you kill you to _turn around_?”

Anakin did as asked almost by habit, barely avoiding chopping Obi-Wan- real, flesh and blood Obi-Wan’s, hand with the plasma blade. The man jumped backwards from the ‘saber blade with a hiss of surprise.

“Obi-Wan?” He blurted in bewilderment. Obi-Wan was far away on a mission in Utapau doing whatever Obi-Wan did when Anakin wasn’t there to save his hide.

“Well, it took you long enough,” Said his former Master with an absentminded scratch of his beard. He looked unperturbed and slightly wet for whatever reason. Anakin blinked, fighting back a surge of sheer relief that threatened to burst out. 

“I’ve never been more glad to see you, Master.” The title slipped unbidden. Obi-Wan sent him a knowing look with his own dash of worry mixed in. Anakin basked in the well-known presence in the Force. Everything would be all right if Obi-Wan was here. 

“I can say the same, Anakin. Are you all right?”

“Mostly,” He mumbled, trying to ignore the sudden onslaught of worry making its way unsteadily through the tattered edges of their waning training bond. “I’m fine,”

His wounds ached as if in reprimand.

Obi-Wan’s knowing look was the answer Anakin needed to know he wasn’t fooling anybody. He might’ve passed out from blood loss in the next few moments because the next time he blinked, Obi-Wan was nowhere in sight and some the clones were on the floor. Presumably dead, but he felt too light-headed to have any definite feelings towards the suspicion. He was mostly lightheaded.

“Master Skywalker!” Screamed a young voice that got closer and closer to him. A pair of stomping feet stopped beside Anakin before he felt two ice-cold hands press against the open wound on his flank. White hot pain licked at his nerves under the abusive touch. He flinched, pressing his sweaty scalp against the wall, unable to emit a single sound. Finally, his vocal chords seemed to cooperate with him, letting him emit a strangled cry of pain.

“There, there Initiate, it won’t do if he blacks out. Here, lets see...” A pair of much warmer, way more gentle hands brushed away the first ones and fiddled with the layers of his tunic. Anakin pressed his head further against the cold wall to fend off his persistent headache. Sweat dripped down his brow, despite how cold he felt suddenly. Soon enough, his former Master’s soothing lilt was nothing but white noise, and his eyes couldn’t stay open. Passing out was the logical step after hearing three more voices joining Obi-Wan’s.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by that one fic that I couldn't remember the name of where Anakin saves the younglings, except this time he doesn't die heroically. As this story is from his POV, expect an unreliable narration because my boy is no god and he can't read minds.
> 
> The people of Star Wars treat their children like shit and this is my very self-indulging attempt to fix it.


End file.
